His countenance was grave on learning of the visit, desperate at the thought of its length, and expressed annoyance at the inconvenience of her illness while under his roof; when the final page was reached, his features became illumined with ecstatic joy.

Dropping the letter, he clasped his hands, and, raising his eyes, ejaculated with blissful fervor-- "Thank Heaven! she's dead!" Of course we laughed.

It was expected of us.

Nevertheless, this kind of jesting has its effect.

It is dangerous playing with edged tools that would be better laid aside and allowed to rust instead of being brought forward where they may do mischief.
The relation of mother-in-law and son-or daughter-in-law ought to be what I am glad to think it sometimes is, one of perfect harmony.